Endless Night

She got home from work and let her children wake to the aroma of pancakes. She cared for three children alone. She had always been alone. No man stayed more than a night. Not even the father she never knew. The apartment was too small. The food was not enough. She sold her body for bread and milk, but she couldn’t last a man longer.

The children walked sleepily to the kitchen and she wiped the tears from her eyes, and the piles of bills from the table. Then, she declared the day a holiday. The children ate quickly, barely breathing between bites. They left the dish less table sticky with maple syrup and remnants of pancakes and canned fruit.  Then, they played games. They took out Clue, Trouble and Life. They guessed, and popped the die and moved their cars down the road of life. They all played and the children laughed until they cried. But she just cried.

The youngest, who was three, took his blanket and wiped her tears. The seven and nine year old looked at each other. They knew she was getter sicker. They knew things were worse. They quickly tried to continue the game. They played each game they had found in random trash cans and sidewalks. Then they told stories. The cabinets were unlocked... and so was the little cooler. They were allowed to eat freely and they ate as if they were starving - and many might argue that they were.

As the sun set, they kissed her good night and went to bed. She sung them to sleep and went to the closet to get her work clothes. She sat in the closet crying; then she did what she knew she had to do. She grabbed the pistol and walked to the frameless mattress where all three lay. She couldn’t see through her tears but she felt the warm bodies and she remembered the bills, and the threats, and the empty cabinets. She knew she had to give them a better life.